The Pig of Providence - The Year of the Forgotten Secrets

Chapter One (yi)

"I've always loved pigs: the shape of them,
the look of them,
and the fact that they are so intelligent."
--Maurice Sendak

It was December 11th. Long past time to begin decorating my apartment for the holidays. I sighed, staring out the window at the foggy mist drifting like fingers along the alley behind my kitchen. No wonder Providence spawned tales of ghostly hauntings and diabolical creatures rising from the depths.

I put down my coffee and walked to the spare bedroom, currently occupied solely by a battered desk and a folding chair. I slid open the closet door and reached up on my toes to get the box jammed on the overhead shelf. The one labelled "Pigs".

I took it down.

I drew in a breath.

I brought the box over to my bedroom and laid it on the dark blue comforter. I took off the lid. Then I retrieved each item within, unwrapping each from its newspaper blanket and putting them in a series of neat rows.

The crystal pig where air bubbles speckled within it, causing shimmers of light.

The porcelain painted pig with an uncanny resemblance to the one from the cartoon version of Charlotte's Web, a movie I had once loved.

The shiny metallic silver one, so polished that I could see my own reflection in it. Dark, messy hair to my shoulders. Worn face from dealing with this stress-filled world for nearly twenty-five years. Pale skin stretched perhaps a bit too tightly over an angular frame.

My lips turned down.

Pig. I would never be called a pig.

I gathered up several of them in my arms and headed out into my apartment. The metal pig went in the living room with its futon and two thrift-shop wooden chairs. The carved wooden pig found a spot by the dish-cluttered kitchen sink. The porcelain one was placed on top of the toilet tank.

At last they were all out.

The holiday decorating was complete.

Good riddance.

* * *

I groaned as Kayley drove us down Waterman Street. I held a Ziplock bag of ice against my bruised face.

Kayley glanced over, her eyes holding that hint of laughter that they always did. "Sorry about that, Amber. I thought I had a hold of him. But you gotta admit it, who would have thought he could kick that high!"

"Yeah, he must've been Bruce Lee in another lifetime," I agreed. "But in this one, he's just a petty thief. And now he's added onto it assaulting a police detective."

His drunken groan came from the back seat. "I ain't tellin' you nothin', you pigs! Let me go!"

Kayley rapped against the plastic divider. Her dark fingers nearly blended in with her black wool jacket. "Hey, you, you have the right to remain silent. So use it."

I groaned, my head echoing. "Cut that rapping out. My head's drumming enough as it is." I leaned back and turned my head. We were passing three-deckers with shops on their ground floors. Apartments high and storefronts low. All the random needs and wants which powered a city like this. Barber shops. Bodegas. Check cashing. Liquor stores. Pawn shops.